that fifty-four thousand do you think we shall have left at the end of
the year?"

"But why build the house from our income?"

"Mary Jane, I want to start out with the fixed idea that we will not cut
into our principal."

"Well, how much will we have over?"

"Not a dollar! The outlay for the year will approximate fifty-six
thousand dollars."

"Large, isn't it?"

"And yet I don't see how we can reduce it if we are to live as people
in our circumstances might reasonably be expected to live."

"We must cut off something."

"That is what I think. If we give the park and the library building to
the town why not let the town pay the cost of caring for them?"

"Then we could save the interest on that other hundred thousand."

"Exactly, and nobody will suffer. The gift of the property alone is
magnificent. Who is going to complain of us? We will decide now to give
the real estate and then stop."

Two days later Mr. Grimes came home early from the bank with a letter in
his hand. He looked white and for a moment after entering his wife's
room he could hardly command utterance.

"I have some bad news for you, dear--terrible news," he said, almost
falling into a chair.

The thought flashed through Mrs. Grimes' mind that the General had made
a later will which had been found and which revoked the bequest to
George. She could hardly whisper:

"What is it?"

"The executors write to me that the million dollars left to me by the
General draws only about four per cent. interest."

"George!"

"Four per cent! Forty thousand dollars instead of sixty thousand! What a
frightful loss! Twenty thousand dollars a year gone at one breath!"

"Are you sure, George?"

"Sure? Here is the letter. Read it yourself. One-third of our fortune
swept away before we have a chance to touch it!"

"I think it was very unkind of the General to turn the four per cents.
over to us while somebody else gets the six per cents. How _could_ he do
such a thing? And you such an old friend, too!"

"Mary Jane, that man always had a mean streak in him. I've said so to
myself many a time. But, anyhow, this frightful loss settles one thing;
we can't afford to give that property across the street to the town. We
must move over there to live, and even then, with the huge expense of
keeping such a place in order, we shall have to watch things narrowly to
make ends meet."

"And you never were good at retrenching, George."

"But we've _got_ to retren